The Trouble With Cats
by Belle Walker
Summary: Inspired by the brief but hilarious scene in the Booker episode "Cement Head" where Booker reveals his love of cats.
1. Chapter 1

She peeked out through the closed blinds, her eyes seeking any flash of unruly dark hair or a black leather jacket which may indicate her boss was approaching.

She spotted him skirting the maze of cubicles and she sprang into action, jumping away from the blinds. She scooped up a small ball of fluff in one hand and deposited it back into the box on Dennis Booker's desk.

"Stay!" she ordered in a stage whisper, pointing a finger for emphasis. She darted out of her boss' office and shut the door behind her.

He doesn't suspect a thing, she thought smugly as he approached her desk.

"Good morning, Elaine," he greeted.

She swallowed back a tell-tale grin. "Good morning, Dennis."

"Any messages?"

"Your mom called, but she said it wasn't urgent."

"Alright, thanks." Dennis opened his office door, intending to call his mother back later. In mid-step toward his desk, he stopped short and gaped in disbelief. "Elaine!"

His secretary appeared at his shoulder. "Something wrong?" she asked innocently.

Booker's dark eyes glared at her. "What is that?" he demanded, pointing a finger at the intruder.

"Oh, don't tell me you've never seen a kitten before," Elaine answered.

Dennis clenched his teeth. "Of course I've seen a kitten before," he managed evenly. "What is it doing in my office?"

Elaine looked with amusement at the fluff ball who had once again escaped the box and was now attached to the top of Booker's desk chair. "Climbing," she said with a laugh.

"Why?!"

"Dennis, just last week you said you love cats," Elaine responded sweetly, as if that explained everything.

"What?" He looked at her uncomprehendingly.

"I remember it clearly. You said, 'I have not slept with more women than Picasso, and I love cats'."

He sucked in a breath to calm himself down. "Elaine…I said 'I _love_ cats', not 'I _want_ a cat'."

"Oh, come on, Dennis!" she pleaded. "If you don't take her, she'll have to go back to the pound!"

Booker paused in his protest. "The pound?" he echoed, not liking the sound of that.

Elaine grabbed onto the sound of disdain in his voice and used it against him. "Yes, the pound. My sister found her there and took her home, but one of her kids is allergic so they can't keep her."

"Why don't _you?_"

"I'm not a cat person." Yet as she said the words, she passed behind Booker to lovingly pluck the fluffy little black creature from the back of his chair. She pressed her cheek to the softness and sidled up to him with a wide-eyed expression. "Look, she's even your favorite color."

"Stop it," Dennis tried to keep glaring as Elaine held the docile kitten up to his own face. But the fur tickled his cheek and his glare quickly melted into a grin.

It was useless to keep fighting it; he was already hooked. He cuddled the kitten gently to his chest and was rewarded with a happy little purr.

"I hate you," he chuckled affectionately to his young secretary with a sparkle in his eyes.

It was adorable, Elaine thought to herself as she looked at the scene before her. Tough guy Dennis Booker charmed by a mere kitten.

"Agh, great!" Booker exclaimed as the kitten put a row of tiny claw marks into the front of his beloved leather jacket. He held the offender up at eye-level. "You know you're not exactly racking up the points here, furball."

The kitten just looked at him sleepy-eyed and continued to purr.

"She likes you," Elaine said softly, perching on the corner of Booker's desk and crossing her arms.

"She have a name?" Dennis asked in resignation, holding his new kitten to his chest again and stroking her fluffy black fur.

He shrugged out of his jacket before any further damage could be done, and Elaine hung it on a hook on the wall.

"You'll think of a name," Elaine answered him, proud of herself for finding the sweet little creature a home. "Well, I have to get back to work. My boss is a real tyrant if I'm not at my desk," she teased him lightly.

Booker laughed. "Elaine." Keeping one hand securely on the kitten, he drew his other arm gently around the woman's shoulders and gave her a comfortable kiss on the forehead. "Thanks."

She grinned at him, patting his cheek. "You're a softy, Dennis Booker."

"Don't I know it," he sighed in agreement, stepping around his desk and sinking into the chair. He looked down at the kitten happily clinging to the front of his white t-shirt. "Well, furball…I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."


	2. Chapter 2

His hair was vibrating. No, wait; it wasn't his hair. It was something _on_ his hair.

Eyes still closed, he limply brought one hand up to his head to figure out what was up there.

"Mrrr?" the mystery object chirruped in a tiny voice before rolling over under his hand and stretching out over his forehead.

Oh, yeah. That.

Booker grinned sleepily, reaching both hands over his head to grasp the lazy purring kitten. "Good morning, Pepper," he mumbled, nuzzling his chin into the soft black fluff. "Ow, ow, ow!" he hissed immediately after, gingerly extracting the needle-like kitten claws from his collarbone.

"Man, you really know how to wake a person up," he grumbled good-naturedly. He set the kitten on his pillow, pulled back the bedcovers and stumbled to his feet. Rubbing a hand over his face, he shuffled toward the bathroom.

Much more awake after relieving his bladder, Dennis now stood at the bathroom sink with razor in hand, preparing to do away with the morning stubble on his face.

Just as he brought the razor to his lathered skin, a sharpness stabbed itself into his left leg just below the knee.

Dennis bit back a yelp of pain and dropped the razor into the sink. Amazingly he hadn't cut himself with it.

Gripping the edge of the sink, he looked down.

"What is with the claws?" he demanded of the kitten hanging onto the leg of his sweatpants.

Pepper didn't answer, of course, but began her ascent upward, much to the agony of Dennis Booker.

"Alright, that's enough," he grabbed the clawed climber off his perforated pant leg and set her on the sink top. "Behave," he commanded.

But Pepper had other ideas. Who knew such a small critter could make such a big mess?

First she nudged the can of shaving cream off the sink and onto the floor. It landed on its top and shot a stream of foam across the tiled floor.

That was somewhat exciting, but then Pepper discovered a lone roll of bath tissue sitting on the back of the toilet tank next to the sink.

Fascinating thing, that fat roll of soft paper. And amazing how quickly it got wet after being knocked into the toilet bowl.

By the time Dennis wiped the wasted shaving cream off the floor and fished the ruined roll of tissue out of the toilet, he had lost all interest in trying to shave his face.

"I'm beginning to see why Elaine didn't keep you," he growled at the kitten, rinsing the cream off his face before it began to dry there. "If I feed you, will you stop destroying my apartment?"

Pepper hopped back to the sink top and rubbed her head against Booker's stomach. Two innocent green eyes gazed up at him hopefully. "Mrrr?" she inquired, stretching up on her back feet to get a few inches closer to her owner's face.

For once, the two front feet resting on his stomach weren't attached there by claws. Grateful for small miracles, Dennis lovingly scratched the kitten's neck with a single gentle finger.

"Come on, you little monster."

Pepper jumped down from the sink, using the now closed toilet lid as a step between the sink cabinet and the floor.

She followed him into the kitchen, darting between his bare feet and almost getting stepped on.

Dennis opened a can of soft mushy cat food and spooned a glob onto a small plate on the floor. If he was quick, he could get dressed while Pepper was busy eating.

Pants and shirt were put on quickly, and he sat down on the couch to put on socks and shoes. As if on cue, Pepper came bouncing in from the kitchen.

He didn't know why, and couldn't explain it if he'd tried, but somehow his bare toes had provoked the kitten. "Gah!" he hollered as both claws and teeth sunk into the biggest toe. Then a tiny rough tongue immediately licked the spot that had been attacked.

Booker gritted his teeth, picked up the furball, and held her at eye-level in both hands. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Mrrr!"

He sighed, and put her back down on the floor. He scratched her fluffy sides; she arched her back and purred.

Dennis grabbed a magazine off the coffee table and tore out a random page. He wadded it into a tight ball and tossed it for the kitten to play with.

Pepper skidded after the paper ball, and Booker's socks and shoes went on without further incident.

Crash!

Dennis cringed, afraid to look. But he did look, and saw that his stack of hardback books in the corner was no longer a stack. It was now a haphazard pile, and his adventurous little kitten was nowhere in sight.

"Oh no," he breathed, fearing the worst. She couldn't be under that pile. She better not be!

"Pepper?" he called. "Kitty, kitty?"

He seized the pile, tossing books onto the couch and giving a sigh of relief when he didn't find a kitten at the bottom.

"Kitty, kitty?" he called again, figuring she was just frightened and not actually hurt. He found the wad of paper and crinkled it in his hand to entice the little nuisance out of hiding.

Pepper crept out from under the couch, wide-eyed and trembling. A big hand picked her up and cradled her safely against a solid, warm form.

The trembling stopped and the purring began.

Dennis looked with exasperation at the kitten he held. "You're making me nuts, cat."

She was making him late for work, too.

He shut her in the bathroom along with more food, water and a litter box that he'd purchased the night before.

If Pepper was going to make any more messes—and she probably would, if this morning's events were any indication of her normal personality—the bathroom would be the safest place for the messes to take place.

_(time break)_

"You look like hell," Elaine observed mildly.

"I have you to thank for that," Dennis didn't miss a beat, passing her desk and stalking into his office.

"Me?" Elaine echoed, following him. "What did I do?"

Dennis fixed her with an accusing stare. "You gave me a miniature assassin."

A cute smile split across his secretary's face. "Dennis, I gave you a _kitten_."

"Mm." He held up a finger to shush her. He took off his jacket and pulled aside the collar of his shirt to reveal a pattern of small red scratches in his skin. "Exhibit A."

Propping a foot on the edge of his desk, he hitched a pant leg up to his knee to show more red scratches. "Exhibit B." He yanked the denim back down and dropped his foot heavily to the floor. "Need I go on?"

Elaine's face fell. "You don't like her?"

"No, I didn't say that," he retracted. "She's just fine when she's not trying to kill me."

A familiar sparkle appeared in the young secretary's eyes and a blush crept up on her cheeks. Her lips twitched, and she lifted a fist to cover her mouth.

Booker raised two dark eyebrows. "Are you laughing at me?"

Elaine pressed her lips together and shook her head, but the laughter bubbled forth anyway.

"Great. You're laughing at me."

"Well, Dennis…it's just that…well, you've been shot, stabbed, beat up, and otherwise injured more times than I can count…"

"Your point?"

Elaine's eyes danced in amusement. "You're a tough guy, Dennis Booker. But I guess you're no match for a kitten."

"Assassin," he corrected her, a grin starting to form on his face. It was pretty silly, he admitted to himself.

"Tough guy," Elaine teased, giving him a mock punch on his shoulder.

Booker laughed at himself now. He looked down at the carpeted floor, then back up at his secretary and friend. "I'm a softy, remember?"

She smiled at him in total agreement. "Yes, you are."


	3. Chapter 3

It was late, and he was tired and hungry. His dark hair stood up on his head in a thick uncombed mass, and one shoulder throbbed from an unfriendly encounter with a suspect he was investigating.

He wearily unlocked his apartment door and turned the knob. The door opened partway then stopped, stuck.

Suspicious, Booker silently drew his handgun. He listened for any sound coming from his apartment, but heard nothing.

He squeezed through the doorway, gun in hand pointed safely at the ceiling. He whipped his gun around the door to see what the obstruction was, and stared in dismay.

Behind the door, his stereo lay on its side. Audio cassettes littered the floor, and two vinyl records lay broken on top of the mess.

Not the handiwork of an intruder, he surmised, for the rest of the room appeared untouched. Plus, an intruder wouldn't have re-locked the door behind himself when leaving.

Dennis re-holstered his gun and bent down to assess the damage to his stereo. He turned it back upright, frowning at a crack running through the plastic top. But the power still worked so he figured it would probably be okay.

He cleaned up an armload of cassettes and threw the broken records in the trash.

Pepper must have gotten out of the bathroom somehow and decided to victimize his small entertainment center. She liked to climb, and despite her runty size, she apparently was good at knocking down even large objects.

He checked the bathroom door, finding it still closed. And yet Pepper was no longer inside.

Only then did Dennis realize exactly how much of a gap there was between the floor and the bottom of the bathroom door. That furry little stinker must have simply crawled under the door to escape her confinement.

So where was she now?

"You're in big trouble, cat," Dennis called out, not caring how foolish he sounded talking out loud to a feline who wouldn't understand the words anyway.

He checked the kitchen and then the bedroom. There was Pepper, looking all sweet and innocent curled up on the middle of his bed.

"Mrrr?" she chirped at him.

He knelt at the edge of his bed to look directly at the tiny black vandal. "You broke my favorite record," he informed the kitten, disappointment in his voice.

"Mrrr!" Pepper said again, jumping to her feet and bouncing over to Dennis.

"What am I going to do with you?" Dennis addressed her in all seriousness, folding his arms on the bed and resting his chin on top. "You've only been here two days, and you're already wrecking stuff."

Pepper purred loudly at him, kneading her little claws in and out of the comforter on the bed. She chirruped at him once more, then rubbed her soft head against his stubble-covered cheek.

Despite his annoyance, Dennis Booker chuckled. "Sucker," he accused himself.

He stroked Pepper's fur, she licked his hand, and all was forgiven.

"Come on…let's have some dinner." He picked up his troublemaking kitten and headed for the kitchen, pressing his cheek to her fluffy side and delighting in the calming purr she gave him.

His day's stress and anger melted away with that therapeutic rumbling from his sweet little kitty.

He just couldn't help it…he really did love cats.


End file.
